You’re Not Alone…

Every feel like you’re going crazy? Like maybe your solitude and the loneliness of being stuck with your own mind is driving you mad? Like maybe your broken or somehow ruined beyond measure? That there’s no way, no person, who will be able to decipher it, to start smoothing over the rough edges/cracks within you? Like maybe you’re buried so deep in what is essentially you that maybe nobody will find you. No one will be able to dig deep enough to find you. They barely reach you. Barely scratch the surface. They give up; seeing the labor in the task and find something easier.

A prison of your own making? Did you surround yourself with so much armor weighing you down? Didn’t see the quicksand devouring you with every piece you put on? Are you forever lost within yourself? No light ever to reach the darkest parts? Waiting for someone to open the coffin you put yourself in. Wondering if that day will ever come… Cause it’s starting to get stuffy in here.There’s a sadness in you that you cover up with sarcastic remarks and jokes to laugh away the jagged truth.Why is it so forbidden to admit to the loneliness? To say its devouring you, when you let your mind go. Those late nights when you turn off the lights. You let yourself feel what you keep bottled up. Screwing it tight again as the sun rises.But who’s to say your prison of loneliness is worse than the persons next to you? Is it worse to bask in your tomb alone or to cram another body in there with you and feel the emptiness all the same.It seems so cliché when people who’ve been single for a while say it’s because they know their worth or that they’re independent. Almost seems like they are too good or picky by saying they have high standards.For me, I want to think of it as I have a good idea of who I am and that my thoughts run deeper than what most see or are able to reach. Someone who can find their way to the roots of my being and understand the things unseen.And I guess I would rather lay in my tomb alone than share it with a familiar stranger. Pretending that there’s room for the half-hearted “I love you’s” in the air already so thick with uncertainties it chokes me sometimes.Maybe one day he’ll find me…Maybe one day I’ll notice the shovel at my feet…Maybe I’m supposed to be the one digging.

I posted this for all of the single ladies and my single friends out there. For all those who look around at their friends and family all getting married and popping kids out conveyer-belt style. For all of those women who find themselves sitting there in the late hours of night wondering what’s wrong with them. Wondering why you haven’t found someone or why someone hasn’t found you… I write it for those people who can relate to my late night thoughts above but maybe don’t verbalize them because they’re a just a little too raw….

I’ve been single for the past 6 years and I have to keep updating that number because apparently it changes every year. One minute, I’m still saying 4 years and have that mind blowing reality of it actually being 6 years. Hits you like a brick wall… Like damn, has it really been that long? I’d say time flew by, but Lord knows there were times it stood pretty damn still… Like a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter… Laying there, staring at the ceiling thinking about what you might be doing wrong for nobody right to actually come along? When in reality you’re probably doing more “right” than you know.

The piece above, I wrote one very lonely night while playing abroad and I believe there’s more people out there who can relate to it in some way, so I felt it worth my while to lay myself bare and share. Wanted to let you know you aren’t alone in those sometimes crazy, lonely, insecure times that creep out in the middle of the night. I’ll dive in deeper in my next blog, but for now I’ll just leave you to brew over the above…